


Comfortable

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson has a sordid past, CousyFest 2k17, F/M, Fluff, Mission Fic, Swapping outfits, Then domestic fic, Time jump sort of, silliness, thoughtful gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: Phil turned the corner and darted down to the next doorway. He listened for signs of life behind it but heard none, so he carefully turned the knob. Locked.“Over here!” A man yelled at the end of the hall, and Coulson was about to bolt when the guy was hit by something that sent him flying.'One thing at a time,' Phil thought, ramming his shoulder into the door a couple times trying to open it.“Knock it off, you’re going to hurt yourself!”“Daisy,” he said, turning around to see her. He paused, looking her over. “Oh, so there’s my suit.”CousyFest Day 6: Crossdressing (see notes)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm not sure this technically falls under the crossdressing umbrella but it was something I started ages ago and FINALLY could finish so you'll accept me and my faults.

Phil waited in his chilly cell, teeth not chattering only through sheer force of will. “Any day now,” he muttered, fruitlessly tugging his thin, almost hospital grade robe tighter around him. They said they’d need to search his clothes for weapons or tracking devices, so he supposed he should at least be happy he’d kept his underwear and avoided a more personal search.

“Is that my dry cleaning?” He asked as a guard walked up to his cell door and dropped a pile of clothes inside. “Thanks!” Phil called at his back, swiftly moving to grab his clothes. Picking them up, he could tell something was wrong. “Hey, wait!” He called. The guard ignored him. “These aren’t my--yeah, you don’t care,” Phil mumbled as the door to the hall slammed shut. Examining them best he could in the dim lighting, Coulson ran the clothes through his hands. Maybe some kind of uniform?

There was some wear and tear, not to mention it looked about two or three sizes two small. Stretchy, durable material. Running his hands over the edge, a chill unrelated to the cold shook him. Holding one of the pieces--the jacket--up as close to the light as he could get, Phil looked at the back of it. He didn’t need to feel the pattern to know what it was.

It was Daisy’s field suit.

 _How the hell did they get her?_ He thought, beginning to panic. Had she come in at the same time as him, and it was just a mix up as the clothing got searched? Or was it intentional?

Sitting down on the bare mattress, Phil held the suit in his lap, trying to get his thoughts together. Closing his eyes for a few moments, he tried to think rationally.

 _Best case scenario,_ _it’s stolen._ Had there been multiple suits made? He thought so. Maybe an old one got tossed, someone found it and recognized it. _Maybe sold it._ That wasn’t an unlikely idea, with the new faces around the Playground, someone could have found it, tried to make a quick buck from superhero paraphernalia.

 _Worst case scenario…_ Picking up the pants, he stretched them out, testing the fabric. “Well, it’s worth a shot,” he muttered.

After all, he wasn’t going to get out of there and find Daisy in a _robe_.

* * *

“Hey!” A voice called down the hall, and Coulson backed around the corner quickly. It sounded too far to be meant for him, but he had to be careful. As miraculously stretchy as the suit was (though he was unable to zip the jacket, and the tank top looked ridiculous...he didn’t want to think about the pants…) it wasn’t the most comfortable thing and his range of motion wasn’t at its best. He needed to avoid fights if possible, but after finally getting through to a different area of the building, he was beginning to doubt his chances of that.

Hearing no further yells, Phil turned the corner and darted down to the next doorway. He listened for signs of life behind it but heard none, so he carefully turned the knob. Locked.

“Over here!” A man yelled at the end of the hall, and Coulson was about to bolt when the guy was hit by something that sent him flying.

Relief flooding through him, probably a bit prematurely. If it was her, they still needed to get out of there. _One thing at a time,_ Phil thought, ramming his shoulder into the door a couple times trying to open it.

“Knock it off, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Daisy,” he said, turning around to see her. Apparently the guards were no longer an issue. He paused, looking her over. “Oh, so there’s my suit.”

Daisy looked at his outfit, shaking her head slightly and focusing on the door. “Out of the way?” She asked, and Phil obliged as she sent the door flying off it’s hinges. They weren’t out just yet, but judging from the sudden drop in temperature they were close.

“Come on.” Daisy strode through the doorway and Phil followed.

“Did you bring the tie?”

“Seriously?”

Coulson shrugged apologetically, following her through the dark hall. Like him, she had disregarded the shoes entirely. His feet would never fit in her boots and his shoes would only slow her down. The suit was a bit ridiculous on her, though probably not nearly as terrible as he looked. He wasn’t that big of a guy, but could see she had rolled up the legs of pants a bit and definitely could have used the (likely discarded) belt.

The jacket and shirt, well. _She can at least button hers._

From far behind them, they heard the shouts.

“Let’s go,” Daisy urged, breaking into a run. Coulson sped up, thinking that he wouldn’t mind an embarrassing rip in the pants if it freed up his range of motion a bit/kept him from getting killed. But the material was sturdy, if uncomfortable, so he just tried to ignore it.

They reached another door that Daisy handled with ease, and barefoot into the snow they ran.

“Oh thank god,” Phil breathed as the quinjet touched down ahead of them. “Good timing,” he said as the ramp lowered, “fantastic timing.”

The two of them ran up into the plane as the ramp closed behind them. Morales looked back from the cockpit for a moment, then went back to the controls. “Strap in,” he said, then took off, under the watchful eyes of Agent Piper in the co-pilot’s chair.

“Welcome back,” the younger agent called, seemingly not noticing or not caring about their respective wardrobes.

“Agent Piper,” he greeted, falling back into one of the seats. Daisy sat next to him in silence. Coulson wondered how she had gotten taken in, how long she’d been in there, if she noticed anything useful they could give the strike team that was likely closing in without them. He didn't have much. If the team was able to find them, they probably had more intel. He was about to ask when Daisy shifted, handing him his jacket. Thankfully Phil (with some difficulty) got out of hers and traded. Reaching into the jacket pocket, he was surprised to feel something in there. It was his tie.

“Do you guys need medical?” Piper asked, walking over once the jet was stable.

“No, I’m good,” Daisy said. “Thanks.”

Relieved, Coulson nodded. “I’m good.”

Apparently Agent Piper _hadn’t_ noticed their outfits when they got on, because focused in on them, puzzled and --probably at least a little bit--amused.

“How did you two get in each other’s pants?”

Coulson and Daisy stared at her blankly as her eyes widened and her face paled. “I mean--”

From the cockpit, Morales made a noise. “That’s not--” Piper blinked hard, starting over. “You were given each other’s clothes,” she observed, and Coulson nodded. “Okay then.” She returned to her seat, dignified but slightly red in the face.

Deciding to give her a break--and genuinely not knowing how to respond to that-- Phil looked forward again.

“We should probably--” he gestured to his legs and hers, and after just the slightest moment of hesitation Daisy nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah,” she agreed, and rather than move--to what, a more secluded area? There weren’t many in the jet--Daisy promptly started unbuttoning her (his, really) pants. After staring for about half a second too long, knocked off balance by the decision, Coulson did the same.

 _Be professional,_ he reminded himself, peeved that he had slipped so much. Spending a night awake and freezing in a strange base was no excuse for making this weird. Without staring, he could tell that Daisy was making quick work of getting undressed, while he was...struggling.

“Everything okay?” Looking over he caught Daisy’s amused face staring at him as he hopelessly tugged at the ankles of the pants. She had his folded neatly in her lap, but had hesitated unbuttoning the shirt about halfway down.

_Focus._

“Yeah, you might want to slow down a bit,” he said apologetically. “This might take...a minute.” The jacket was hard enough to squeeze his shoulders out of without ripping the thing (not with his human hand, of course, it was made from tougher material than that.) But the pants? A whole different ballgame.

_Don’t you dare say that out loud._

“How did you even get them on?” Daisy asked, and he thought that, considering his self-recrimination over looking too much, her stare was pretty excessive. “I feel like sometimes I need to like, powder myself into them.”

“What?”

Rolling her eyes, Daisy gestured vaguely to the pants. “You know, shake a bunch of baby powder or something in the legs so they don’t stick--it’s-- you wouldn’t get it, you never wore tight pants like that before.”

Something must have shown on his face--didn’t he used to be a super spy?--because Daisy’s eyes widened.

“Or...you have.”

“I--it was a phase,” Phil said, looking over to make sure the other agents were still out of earshot.

“Right,” Daisy said, nodding slightly. “This phase, how long--”

“A couple years in high school I don’t--I need to focus on the task at hand if you don’t--”

“Right.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him, and somehow while he sat in the back of a jet, freezing, wearing a too small tank top that very likely revealed more of his scar than he was typically comfortable with, futilely trying to squeeze out of a pair of WAY too small pants, Phil actually felt...okay. Happy, even. And not just “we’re not dead/kidnapped” happy.

“So these ‘just a phase pants,’ were they jeans or, what decade are we talking here?”

“That’s classified.”

* * *

“We said no gifts,” Phil said, staring at the neatly wrapped package on the bed.

“What?” Daisy called from the bathroom, and he was pretty sure she actually heard him just fine.

Still: “We said _no gifts_.”

Running a towel roughly through her hair, Daisy shrugged. “I don’t recall.”

“Daisy.”

“It’s not a _gift,_ ” she said, gesturing to the gold foiled box with a bright red ribbon. The _gift._ “Just something I saw and thought of you, so I picked it up.”

“Uh huh,” Phil said skeptically, tugging at the ribbon. Daisy’s arms wrapped around him from behind, coiling herself around him like a snake. Not wanting to budge, not yet, he willed away the smile on his face (and in his voice) when he felt her press a kiss to his shoulder blade with a loud smacking sound. “When did you just see it and pick it up?”

“Umm, about two weeks ago?” Daisy guessed, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt until he lightly smacked her hands away. First of all, two weeks was well within the timeline to qualify as buying a birthday present. Besides, they were supposed to be getting dressed, speaking of which…

“Is it clothes?” His mother had often kept old clothing boxes from department stores to re-use for Christmas gifts, so he knew the look. And he was pretty sure they didn’t have any of those laying around the base, so did Daisy buy him clothes?

“Maaaybe,” Daisy said, her words humming against his shoulder as she peered over it. “You should probably open it and find out, we have to leave soon.”

Daisy was a very touchy person, something he had gleaned early on (when she threw a hug at him while still barely knowing each other,) but he had been surprised and pleased to see she still held onto that after everything they’d been through. Their bodies being turned into weapons, turned against them and each other and their friends. But even with all of that, and all the work they’d had to do lately, she was still affectionate and playful. If asked, Phil wasn’t sure he would be able to say which Daisy he preferred: this one, or the one in the briefing earlier, who captivated the room and meant business.

(Or the one that apologized for holding such an important meeting on his birthday by shoving him into the shower then following him inside.)

He loved them all equally, he thought.

“Do you need me to get it started for you?” Daisy asked, her amusement audible. “Are you having a moment?”

“I’m not _having a moment,_ ” Phil argued, very much having a moment.

“I know you get sentimental,” Daisy said, pressing another kiss to the side of his neck before continuing. “And normally I’d downplay it and say it’s not a big deal, but I’m actually pretty proud of this one.”

“Okay then,” Coulson said, untying the ribbon and laughing slightly as he tried to bend at the waist. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Daisy apologized, releasing her hold on him so he could pick the present up. Crossing her arms she sat on the bed, watching as he tore into the wrapping paper and opened the box.

“I don’t--” Phil picked up the garment, dropping the empty box on the bed. The material was dark and smooth, and he had a strange, layered feeling of deja vu. “Are these--”

“Yup.”

“You bought me--”

“Sure did.” She was doing that thing where she twisted her fingers together, like she wasn’t sure she had done the right thing. “Is it weird? I mean, you said you’d worn them before and I mean, if you looked good in _mine_ \--”

“These are amazing,” Phil marveled, running the material through his hands. Worried his reaction was a little _too_ enthusiastic, he blushed. He was happy to open up to Daisy, but there were still moments (especially while they were living on base) that he thought he might be saying too much, revealing parts of himself that maybe should stay hidden.

 _‘That’s stupid,_ ’ Daisy’s voice reminded him in his head, the one she used every time she thought he was being too hard on himself.

“They’re perfect,” he repeated, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. She made a ‘boo’ sound until he pressed his mouth against hers, letting her pull him to her until he was leaning over so much he had to catch himself with one hand on the bed. “Careful,” Phil warned, sliding over until he sat next to her, holding up the pants. “I don’t want to damage the leather.”

“Smart,” Daisy agreed, using his new position to sling an arm around his neck and kiss him silly while her gift lay safely pooled in his lap. “It took me forever to find the right ones,” she said against his jaw after a little while, proud. “I had to do some  _historical research,_ ” she added, and Coulson frowned.

“Okay,” he muttered, pulling the pants out of her reach. She seemed to really like the material, which Phil filed back into his brain for ‘later’ reasons. “It must have been quite a search.”

Daisy tilted her head. “Well, I wanted to see what you might have worn back in high school during your ‘ _phase,’_ ” she said, with unnecessarily exaggerated air quotes. “But didn’t want them to be too dated, so you could still wear them now--”

“Wait,” Coulson interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t--I’m not supposed to wear these _tonight,_ am I?”

Daisy looked at him like he’s sprouted a tail. “To our nice dinner with the team? No, I wasn’t planning on it. But I mean, if you _want…_ ”

“I’m good,” he said, patting her on the knee. “If I know you, I’m guessing you already have plans?” Daisy returned his smirk, nodding.

“Oh yeah, I have plans for these, don’t you worry.”

Grabbing her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, Phil kissed her again, softer. “You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?” He asked quietly, and Daisy hesitated slightly before nodding.

“I mean, I saw how much you liked wearing mine, don’t try to deny it,” she joked, and Phil didn’t make any attempts at denying it. Once they were together, that day had come up just once, in a comment Daisy made off the cuff in bed then immediately seemed to regret, worried she had crossed a line. She knew for sure, now, how unlikely he was to be offended.

“Thank you,” Phil said, pulling her in closer. “For the thoughtful, well-planned, _gift._ ”

Daisy’s shoulders stiffened, then dropped. “ _Fine,_ it’s a gift, okay? I did recall our no gift rule and disregarded it, because it’s a dumb rule,” she argued, looking up at him with a challenging face. “Happy?”

Coulson smiled. “Yes.”

 


End file.
